


burnt pancakes and bad serenades

by crispierchip



Series: and i've just let these little things slip out of my mouth [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 21:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11022201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispierchip/pseuds/crispierchip
Summary: “I was thinking,” Jimmy starts. He sounds hesitant enough that Brady starts to worry, his stomach growing heavy with it.“Yeah,” he prompts, and his heart is in his mouth, thinking about what could be wrong.“I wanted to come out to the rest of the team,” Jimmy finishes.





	burnt pancakes and bad serenades

**Author's Note:**

> so i started writing this and then it grew three legs and a head. i'd say at least one of those three legs is domestic bliss though so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> many thanks to scout for the motivation and for listening to me whine endlessly about this and also fin for the much needed encouragement and last minute read through. you guys are awesome <3
> 
> this is the sequel to and i've just let these little things slip out of my mouth. i'd recommend reading that one first, i don't really think this stands too well on it's own.

Jimmy’s laid out on the bed, and Brady’s on top of him, his face buried in Jimmy’s neck, his lips pressed to Jimmy’s skin. Jimmy’s fingers are digging into Brady’s back, and his leg hair scratches against Brady’s sides, and Brady’s never felt like this before, like his entire world has narrowed to one person, to Jimmy.  

The room is quiet, too quiet, just the harsh sounds of their breathing breaking the silence, and it’s for the better. Brady doesn’t much want to hear his voice right now and he doesn’t think Jimmy does either.

Brady pulls out, just a little, and Jimmy gasps, legs twitching. He goes tight around Brady and Brady has to close his eyes, wrap his arms tighter around Jimmy. He kisses Jimmy’s shoulder, the shell of his ear.

“Okay?” he asks, and even that, it feels too raw.

Jimmy nods into Brady’s shoulder, and lets his legs spread out farther. He lets out a sharp breath once Brady pushes back in, and Brady can feel it against his ribs, against his heart, and it’s so much, being this close to Jimmy. Brady wouldn't trade it for the world though, not after three months apart, three months of nothing but phone calls and facetime sessions.

“Harder,” Jimmy says - whispers, really - at some point, and so Brady gives it to him, because he can’t imagine saying no to Jimmy now.

“Like that?” he asks, and it’s not - he doesn’t mean to gloat, but he drinks in Jimmy’s tiny sounds nonetheless, whenever he moves his hips particularly well.

“Brady,” Jimmy just says, quiet. He’s sweating all over, and so is Brady, and they keep sticking together, it’s so warm, but Brady shivers, feels his hairs stand on end, at the way Jimmy sounds.

“Yeah,” Brady says, and he’s not even sure what he’s replying to, except he knows, kind of, what Jimmy means. He presses deeper insider Jimmy, and Jimmy’s going to claw his back, Brady can just tell, he’s going to have marks after this and he can’t bring himself to care. “I got it,” he goes on, and he does.

+

After, they chill out in the living room, Jimmy watching some cooking show on the TV while Brady messes around on his guitar, vaguely playing some 1d song that’s been stuck in his mind.

Jimmy looks pretty focused, so Brady tries to be quiet, but the sound doesn’t seem to bother Jimmy. Every few minutes he’ll glance at Brady and smile, and Brady, like a true idiot, will stupidly smile back, because he can’t not, not when Jimmy’s putting his crooked smile out in full force.

The show ends, at some point, and Brady puts the guitar aside, rests his arm along the back of the couch. Jimmy looks at him like he’s totally on to him, but he still shifts closer and closer still, until they’re basically cuddling on the couch, no other word for it.

Jimmy’s hair is right under Brady’s nose and Brady feel like such a sap but can’t help breathing in Jimmy’s scent, his shampoo. Jimmy squirms like he can tell, but he throws a leg over Brady’s and fists his hand in Brady’s shirt, so maybe he’s missed this too.

“So, I was thinking,” Jimmy starts, at some point, and Brady can’t help tensing, behind him. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he goes on quickly, like he can feel Brady’s unease.

“Okay,” Brady says hesitantly. He runs his fingers through Jimmy’s hair, and it helps.

Jimmy lets his head fall on Brady's shoulder, eyes falling shut. “I would like to tell my parents,” he says, and Brady’s pretty much getting flashbacks, his chest tingling with it, and it’s not pleasant. “About us, I mean,” Jimmy elaborates, and, for some reason, that’s even worse, it makes Brady’s stomach thighs and his hands sweaty, and he -

Brady has to fight to stay still, to keep his breathing even, because he's not even sure _what_ he’s freaking out over. He thinks about Jimmy’s parents knowing, and that’s not too bad, but the thought of them telling someone, it terrifies him, for some reason. It makes his throat close up, his ears ring, and he knows Jimmy’s parents wouldn't say anything maliciously, but Jimmy’s mom has already let things slip once, and it might have been to Jimmy’s siblings, but Brady can’t even bring himself to care about that right now.

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to,” Jimmy says quietly, like he can read Brady's mind. With how tightly Brady is holding himself, maybe Jimmy can.

“It’s just - ” Brady tries, has to cut himself off. Jimmy’s hand is on Brady’s knee now, squeezing lightly. “I think it would - it would - I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Brady finishes carefully.

He almost braces for Jimmy’s reaction, but Jimmy only squeezes Brady’s knee again, turns to kiss his throat, and it’s so - it’s so painfully understanding, it makes Brady _ache_ , this thing deep inside his chest. He hates having said no, but he knows, he couldn’t like with that kind of paranoia following him around, Jimmy’s parents don’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying, because Jimmy went through so much, to get to a point where he’s comfortable with who he is, and now Brady - Brady’s just not, he’s not in the same place, and it feels like he’s forcing Jimmy to take a step back just so they can be together.

“Hey,” Jimmy says. He shifts around a little until they’re facing each other and then waits for Brady to slowly meet his eyes. “It’s okay to need some time,” he says and that’s - that’s understanding too, so earnest.

“I sure took my fair share of it,” Jimmy jokes, but it hurts Brady, that Jimmy’s doing this for him, even after everything.

“I’m really sorry, Jimmy,” Brady says, looks away.

Jimmy takes a breath and sits up so he can climb into Brady’s lap. His hands frame Brady’s face, forcing Brady to look up at him, and then he’s leaning down, and Brady’s meeting him halfway and they’re kissing.

“Just tell me when you’re ready,” Jimmy murmurs against Brady’s lips, and Brady shivers at the vibration of the words. “I’ll be here,” he goes on, and Brady shivers again but for an entirely different reason.

+

They share the same bed that night. Before they head off for the night, Brady shyly asks if it’s okay to, and Jimmy gives him this perplexed look like he doesn’t understand and takes his hand, drags Brady off to his bedroom.

They don’t start cuddling but gradually shift closer to each other, Brady’s back to Jimmy’s chest, and Brady’s missed this so much. Now that he has it, he can’t figure out how he managed to go an entire summer without it.

How he’s going to do it again.

+

The next morning Brady wakes up to a tingling under his chin. He scrunches up his face and shakes his head, and there’s a chuckle. Brady huffs and opens his eyes just in time to see Jimmy’s crooked smile.

“Good morning,” Jimmy says. He’s braced over Brady, shirtless, and, like, if Brady gets to wake up to this instead of his nine am alarm, he’s not going to say no to that.

“Morning,” Brady says, and leans up to kiss Jimmy’s cheek.

Jimmy’s breath does this shaky thing, and he turns to catch Brady’s lips with his own. It gets heated pretty fast between them, and pretty soon Brady’s gripping at Jimmy’s sides, holding him close, and Jimmy’s arms are shaking from holding himself up for so long.

“Come back to bed,” Brady mumbles, patting the space next to him invitingly.

Jimmy looks at the mattress with a frown, so Brady kisses his neck, his jaw, anywhere he can reach.

“Please?” he murmurs, and Jimmy huffs. He pulls back the covers and then climbs on top of Brady again. Brady lets out a long breath and allows Jimmy to press him into the mattress, leans into the weight of it.

“Okay?” Jimmy asks.

Brady nods, too hazy to talk. He wraps his arms around Jimmy’s shoulders and holds him close, tilts his face up when Jimmy leans down to kiss him. They make out, for a while, too long, until Brady’s lips are tingling and he’s sure Jimmy's aren’t much better.

“I missed you,” Brady admits, and it’s - it’s harder than he thought it would be, even though it’s just the two of them. He’s not sure what he’s afraid of, if it’s Jimmy’s rejection of what, but Jimmy just smiles and kisses Brady’s throat, his shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” he says, and it’s like a weight has been lifted from Brady’s shoulders, finally having it out in the open.

“You better,” Brady says, and it’s not even confident. His voice shakes and his fingers are sweaty where they’re gripping Jimmy’s sides, and maybe Jimmy can tell.

He smiles again and leans down until their lips touch, slow but not hesitant at all, and, once again, Brady's caught wondering when Jimmy got here, got to this, and realizes it was somewhere along the way of Brady pretending they were just friends, friends who boned.

Jimmy pulls back, like he can tell Brady’s head is not into it. His eyebrows are drawn together a little, and he blinks, and all Brady can see are his ridiculously long lashes. “You okay?”

Brady looks at Jimmy’s lashes, at his lips, moving, and rolls them over, pins Jimmy’s wrists to the bed. Promises to himself to never miss anything again.

+

They go out for dinner, the next day, and it’s - it’s terrible. Brady spends the entirety of the afternoon glancing around at the other tables, checking to see if anyone watching them, and it’s not - it’s paranoid, he knows so. It didn’t use to be like this when they went out before, and Brady doesn’t want it to be different now, except it is.

Jimmy doesn't notice, at least not at first, but as the afternoon goes on he grows progressively less relaxed and it starts to get more difficult to get words out of him. Brady hates that most of all, that he’s made Jimmy uncomfortable, because Jimmy has already been through this once, he doesn’t deserve it a second time.  

They leave, eventually, start walking back to their place, and they’re walking kind of close together, closer than Brady would like. Their hands brush, every few strides, and Brady jerks back without even meaning to. He looks around and all he can see is people, and he knows these people don’t matter, but that knowledge doesn’t stop him from shifting away, just a little, from Jimmy.

Jimmy notices that, too. He shoves his hands in his pockets, after a while, and walks with his head downturned, and Brady hates himself so much. He heads for his room as soon as the door to the apartment is shut behind them, ignores the soft “Brady,” from Jimmy’s mouth.

Brady turns the light on and sits on his bed with his head in his hands for the longest time, thinking about Jimmy and all that he went through until he got to a point where he was comfortable with himself and how Brady’s now forcing him to take one, two, ten steps back. He thinks about how easy it was to hand out advice before and how hard it is now, to take it himself. Wonders how Jimmy did it.

There's a knock on his door, a few minutes later, and Brady sits up. The door opens, a little, and Jimmy’s head peeks through.

“Can I come in?” he asks, and his voice is soft, like he doesn’t want to spook Brady.

“Yeah, it’s - go ahead,” Brady says. He tries to meet Jimmy’s eyes and can’t. He just looks at the carpet.

Jimmy comes to sit on the bed next to him, the mattress dipping under his weight, and puts his hand on Brady’s knee. Brady wants to jerk away, thinks he doesn’t deserve it, because if he can’t even bear to be seen with Jimmy outside how can he take his comfort inside, but he’s too hungry for it.

“I - ” Brady starts at the same time as Jimmy says, “Listen - ”

Jimmy huffs, says, “You go first.”

Brady takes a breath and keeps looking at the carpet because the carpet is the closest thing to a safe ground he’s got right now. “I don’t know what go into me,” he admits. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jimmy says softly. He shifts a little closer and bumps their shoulders together.

“It’s not,” Brady says, and stops there, because he doesn’t want to tell Jimmy about how he thinks he’s holding him back, because he doesn’t want Jimmy to leave.

“Brady,” Jimmy sighs. “I told you, when you’re ready, you’re ready,” he says. “If all you can do right now is be with me in this room, then that’s okay,” he goes on. “I can wait.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though,” Brady finds himself saying. “You shouldn't have to settle for - for this.”

Jimmy takes in a breath. “It's not settling if I - ” he says, and cuts himself off, and Brady can almost hear it, what follows, and he’s glad Jimmy stopped there. Brady doesn’t want those words tainted by his own fears, doesn’t want to look back at this and have regrets.

“Okay,” he says now, selfishly, and feels Jimmy relax next to him. Feels himself relax. He turns around and brings his hand to Jimmy’s chest, pushes him back until he’s laying on his back.

Jimmy blinks, and it looks like he’s gearing up to ask something, so Brady leans over him and kisses him, feels Jimmy’s question die on his lips.

Brady knows what does it for Jimmy, and it’s almost easy, to get him there. He kisses him hard and rubs down against his hips, and even through layers of clothing, that gets them both going. Brady pulls back, once Jimmy is hard, and kisses his way down his throat, bunches up his shirt so he can kiss his chest, too, his stomach.

Jimmy’s stomach dips when Brady makes it to his hips, and his breath kind of shakes when Brady undoes his belt. His fingers go to Brady's hair, comb through it and hold on, and Brady’s eyes fall shut for a moment, leaning into it.

Jimmy’s fingers tighten, when Brady takes him into his mouth, and his legs tremble next to Brady's head. He makes tiny, breathy sounds as Brady swallows him down and his hips jump, pushing further into Brady's mouth.

Brady is a little bit out of practice, after a few months of not doing this, so it takes him a minute to get it right, but pretty soon Jimmy’s breathing hard, hips twitching every couple of seconds.

“You’re so good at this,” Jimmy says, and Brady shudders at the compliment, wants to both take it in and never hear it again at the same time, and maybe this is how Jimmy felt, when he would tell Brady to shut up, before.

Brady doesn’t tell Jimmy to shut up, now, but it’s a close thing. Instead he works him harder, a little faster, until Jimmy can’t do much more than simply hold on and _breathe_.

“I’m gonna - ” Jimmy says, a couple of minutes later, and Brady grips his hips and swallows him down until Jimmy comes down his throat.

Brady climbs into Jimmy’s lap while Jimmy’s catching his breath and leans down to kiss him, because he doesn’t want to be pushy but that got him a little hot, and then Jimmy’s hand is around him, jerking him off, and Brady doesn’t last much longer after that.

They lay together, after, side to side. Their arms touch, and Jimmy’s pinky nudges Brady’s until Brady takes the plunge and links their fingers together. Jimmy’s hand is a little sticky and Brady's is mostly sweaty and Brady basically hopes Jimmy won’t notice.

“I’m not settling for you,” Jimmy says, and Brady closes his eyes against it. “I want you.”

“Okay,” Brady says, and mostly doesn’t believe it.

+

Haysie gets back to New York a couple of days later, and the three of them go out for lunch. Brady is struck by how different it is, when it’s the three of them instead of just him and Jimmy and carefully doesn’t spend too long thinking about.

Listens, instead, to Haysie complain endlessly about the heat - even though it’s September - and about his new jeans that he bought online - even though he should have known not to buy bottoms online with his ass.

Brady tells him this and gets an unimpressed, “Do _not_ call my ass fat, Skjei,” back. “Anyway, how have things been between you two?” he asks.

Jimmy looks taken aback by the question. Brady is too, just by the casual way Haysie brought it up, but he recovers first. “Good, because Jimmy doesn’t complain as much as you do.”

“Har, har, Skjei, funny,” Kevin says, giving Brady a tight smile.

+

Training camp starts soon after, and Brady’s barely got the energy to sleep and eat, much less worry about his relationship with Jimmy. It’s easier, in a sense, but it mostly feels like cheating, and Brady can’t help but think about that every time he and Jimmy kiss.

The guys go out, after the first day, even though they all can barely stand. Brady unconsciously sits on the opposite end of the table from Jimmy, and doesn’t notice until he wants to turn around and tell him something. He looks down the table then, at Jimmy, but finds Jimmy deep in conversation with Lindy.

Brady looks away quickly, doesn’t want to be caught staring at Jimmy, but he feels an odd weight settle in his gut, something like remorse.

+

Brady’s parents come to visit the first week of the season. Brady brings it up to Jimmy a few days beforehand, just as a heads up since they’ll be staying at a hotel and not their place.

“Are you going to,” Jimmy pauses, lowers the volume on the TV. “Tell them?” he finishes, a little awkwardly.

Brady doesn’t really need for him to elaborate. He hadn’t thought about it, until now, which says enough on its own, he supposes. He does now though, thinks about sitting down with his mom and his dad and saying he has a boyfriend, and the thought fills him with an overwhelming sense of dread. His palms start to sweat and his heart beats harder in his chest, and he’s not even - it’s just a thought, nothing concrete.

“I don’t really - I hadn’t thought about that,” Brady admits and even his voice is shaky.

They’re laying on the couch, their usual spots, and Jimmy nudges at Brady's shoulder with his toe, which makes Brady feel marginally better. “That’s cool,” he says, and it’s - he just sounds a little disappointed, Brady thinks.

Brady tries to brush it off, but he keeps thinking about it until they go to bed and then some. By the next morning, he can’t take it anymore and asks Jimmy about it. “You think I should, don’t you?” he asks, and it comes off a little accusatory, he wishes he could take it back.

Jimmy either doesn't notice though, or he doesn’t care. He sighs, and flips a spinach pancake in the pan. “I think now would be a good time, yes. But I definitely don’t think you should do it because I’m telling you to,” he says. He glances at Brady over his shoulder and gives him a small smile, and Brady feels his heart do something truly weird in his chest.

“Yeah, it’s - ” Brady huffs, lets his head hang between his shoulders. His head is a mess, and he has no idea how to articulate all that he’s feeling to Jimmy, how to make him understand. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to surprise them too badly,” he says lamely.

Jimmy shrugs. He flips the pancake again and moves it to the plate where three others are already cooling. “My parents were surprised and I’ve never had a girlfriend in my life,” he says. “I mean, there is no easy way to put it.”

“Yeah,” Brady says distractedly. His eyes are glued to the floor.

“You have time to think about it, if you want,” Jimmy says, and Brady thinks it’s supposed to be encouraging, only he can’t help but think that four days aren’t much time at all.

+

Brady thinks about it, though. He thinks about it a great deal over the next four days, spends what is probably hours doing only that. He runs through every possible worst case scenario in his head, and he knows none of the things he’s thinking about will come to be true - most likely - but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about them.

Brady then thinks about all the best case scenarios, how much lighter he’ll feel with his parents knowing, how proud he’ll be to introduce Jimmy to them properly this time. What it’ll be like to sit down with them and say, “Here’s my boyfriend,” and how Jimmy will probably smile at the word.

It’s an easy decision after that.

+

“I’m gonna do it,” he tells Jimmy the day his parents are set to visit.

Jimmy’s messing around on his phone, texting his sister, Brady thinks. He looks up at Brady, and he’s a little confused, so Brady elaborates. “I’m telling them about us,” he says.

Jimmy’s eyes grow a little wide, and then he gives Brady this smile, this huge smile that reaches all the way to his eyes, and Brady is so, _so_ gone. “Really? That’s great,” he says, and it’s genuine, heartbreakingly genuine.

Brady is caught smiling like a fool for a second, and then Jimmy is standing up, walking over to him until he can climb into Brady's lap, and it’s so easy, for Brady to settle his hands on Jimmy’s hips, sneak them under his shirt.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jimmy says, and leans to kiss Brady.

“I haven’t done it yet.” Brady chuckles, suddenly feels a weight settle on his chest, inexplicably.

“I’m still proud of you,” Jimmy counters, and kisses Brady again.

+

After the game, Brady meets his parents outside the locker room to head for dinner, and Jimmy comes with him to say hello. He’s met Brady’s parents before, and they’re happy to see him, especially Brady’s mom since Brady's told her all about how Jimmy is in charge of feeding them lately.

“Thank you for not letting Brady waste away,” she jokes.

Jimmy ducks his head, and Brady thinks he’s a little bit pleased by the acknowledgement. “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” he says, somewhat flustered and Brady wishes they were alone so he could wrap an arm around Jimmy’s waist, press a kiss to his temple.

Thinks about how maybe after he’s told them he will be able to do that.

“Maybe you’d like to come out with us, to return the favor?” Brady’s dad suggests, and Brady feels his eyes grow wide, his hands start to sweat. He looks at Jimmy and Jimmy looks at him, and Brady trusts Jimmy, he trusts Jimmy more than he trusts himself, and he thinks having Jimmy there might make things easier, but Brady doesn’t want to cheat on this.

Brady tries to make up some excuse for Jimmy, but his mouth won’t work, so he just shoots Jimmy a look, more than a little helpless, and hopes Jimmy picks up on it.

Jimmy does, thankfully. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, but I promised Haysie I’d give him a ride,” he says, which is a lie. Jimmy hardly drives his car to and from games, but Brady is so, so grateful.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Brady’s mom says quickly. “Some other time,” she goes on.

“For sure,” Jimmy says. He and Brady lock eyes again, and he gives Brady a look that he can’t decipher, doesn’t really want to either.

Jimmy says his goodbyes after that and heads back into the locker room, presumably to find Haysie and give him a pretend ride.

Brady and his parents head off the restaurant and Brady tries, he really does. He hears to his mom talk about Ramsey, and the words are on the tip of his tongue, almost out of his mouth. His mom is saying something about Ramsey and Sarah moving in together, and Brady thinks that’s such a good opening, he can do it, he -

“Mom,” he says, and that’s about as far as he makes it before he feels his temples break out in sweat, his palms right along with them. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, suddenly, and - oh god, his mom is staring right at him, expectant, and what is Brady even going to say.

He stands up before he does anything else. “I - I need to use the bathroom,” he gets out, and the words are clipped, hesitant.

Brady splashes some water on his face. He looks in the mirror and he looks a little pale. He thinks about what he should have said and what he said and he feels so disappointed in himself. He thinks about how he bolted straight from the table, and he’s such a coward.

He stays in the bathroom for as long as he can, until he thinks his parents have started to worry, and then he makes his way out again. His mom is frowning, when Brady makes it back to the table and his dad reaches out to pat him on the back, ask him is he’s alright.

Brady stumbles out something about being tired from the game and spends the rest of the dinner listening to news from home, letting it wash over him.

+

Jimmy is asleep by the time Brady makes it back home, so Brady tires to be as quiet as possible getting into bed. Part of him thinks he should just go ahead and sleep in his own bed, thinks he doesn’t deserve this, but the more selfish part of him wins out.

Jimmy makes a muffled sound when Brady gets in bed, and Brady freezes, half because he doesn’t want to wake him but mostly because he doesn’t want Jimmy to ask. It doesn’t really work though; Brady gets in bed and Jimmy shuffles back into him, and that’s almost enough to make up for the question that follows.

“How did it go?” Jimmy asks sleeping, rolling over to face Brady.

Brady rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes, takes a few careful breaths. He half hopes Jimmy will go back to sleep. Jimmy lays a hand on Brady’s chest, and, fuck, he’s probably worried, Brady realizes, and Brady can’t stand to do that to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asks. His voice is rough but his fingers soft, rubbing over Brady’s chest.

Brady takes in a breath, then another one, shivers when Jimmy brushes his nails over Brady’s ribs. “I couldn't do it,” he admits, and it’s harder than he thought it would be, to do so. He thinks about Jimmy, how he did all on his own, with Brady’s presence merely a phantom, and doesn’t understand how he managed it.

Now, Jimmy doesn’t even move. He keeps rubbing gentle circles on Brady’s chest, and his breathing doesn’t change. He doesn’t move away, and for that most of all Brady is grateful.

“I’m sorry,” Brady says again, mostly because it feels like he has to.

“Jesus, Brady,” Jimmy says, and Brady braces himself for - for something. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Jimmy goes on, which brings Brady up short.

“What?” he asks stupidly.

“I - I pushed you. I didn’t mean to, but I did,” Jimmy says. He shifts a little, takes his hand away, and Brady doesn’t want that. He reaches out to Jimmy’s wrist and brings his hand back to his chest, lays it over his heart.

“Brady, I’m sorry,” Jimmy says.

“I don’t even understand why you’re apologizing right now,” Brady says, even though he feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his chest, like he can breathe easier.

Jimmy shifts again, this time coming closer. He rests his hand on Brady’s shoulder and Brady wraps an arm around him, holding him close. “I think I tried to encourage you but went about it all wrong,” Jimmy admits, and that makes Brady’s chest even lighter and Brady doesn’t _understand_ any of this.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says, for the third time. “Just feel free to tell me to shut up next time,” he goes on, which makes Brady chuckle.

Brady still doesn’t quite understand what’s happening in his chest, and he's not sure he agrees with Jimmy on the pushing bit, but he takes it, for now, Jimmy’s apology, and lets his eyes fall shut, because no matter what else, he’s got Jimmy with him now.

+

Brady takes to fiddling with his guitar whenever Jimmy’s reading in the living room, or watching TV, or even cooking, sometimes. Jimmy’s reading now, and Brady is idling playing O _nce in a Lifetime,_ when Jimmy suddenly looks up and frowns at him.

“What song is that?” Jimmy asks. His head is tilted to the side, and his book is resting on his chest, his socked feet curled under Brady’s thigh.

Brady shrugs. “1D,” he says.

“Does it have lyrics?” Jimmy asks. He wiggles his toes under Brady’s thigh.

It starts to come to Brady, then. “Do you want me to sing to you?” he asks, a little sly.

Jimmy rolls his eyes and jabs him in the thigh with his big toe, so Brady will graciously take that as a yes. “I was just asking,” he mumbles.

Jimmy goes to pick up his book again, so Brady has to act fast. He starts playing the chorus, misses the cue a couple of times because he doesn’t have the best voice and Jimmy’s only heard him in the shower before. He has to clear his throat, and his fingers start to sweat, and he can’t even look at Jimmy as he starts to sing.

 _“_ _Somehow, it feels like nothing has changed,”_ Brady starts, _“Right now, my heart is beating the same.”_

Jimmy’s toes stop wiggling, and Brady starts to feel like Jimmy’s staring at him.

 _“Out loud, someone's calling my name, and it sounds like you,”_ Brady goes on. _“When I close my eyes, all the stars align.”_

He’s pretty sure he butchers it, because he doesn’t have a voice like Harry Styles, but Jimmy’s still looking at him, Brady can feel it. When Brady finds the courage to look up, mid-tune, Jimmy’s outright staring, his mouth having fallen open a little bit. He looks fond, and maybe a bit surprised, and it makes Brady brave.

 _“And you are by my side,”_ he says, and he’s looking at Jimmy now, their eyes locked, and this is so surreal, Brady never thought he’d be serenading Jimmy of all people. _“You are by my side,”_ he goes on though, because it's a strange turn of events, but Brady’s going to take it.

Brady goes through the chorus one more time, and then Jimmy’s there, taking the guitar out of his hands and climbing into his lap. Wrapping his arms around Brady’s neck, so easily, leaning down to kiss him.

+

“I was thinking,” Jimmy starts. He sounds hesitant enough that Brady starts to worry, his stomach growing heavy with it.

“Yeah,” he prompts, and his heart is in his mouth, thinking about what could be wrong.

“I wanted to come out to the rest of the team,” Jimmy finishes.

It’s gradual, Brady’s reaction. At first he thinks that’s great, almost says it, too, but then he makes the unmissable connection, and the bottom drops out from his stomach. He thinks, if Jimmy comes out, Brady and he are so close, and they spend so much time together, it won’t be long before the guys pick up on it, before they start to suspect something is up.

And, god, Brady hasn’t even told his parents. The only other person who knows except from Jimmy is Haysie and how is Brady supposed to go from three people knowing to twenty?

And what if someone takes it the wrong way? What is Jimmy going to do then, when he can’t even trust his own team?

Jimmy’s waiting for an answer, now, and Brady wants, more than anything, to be supportive about this, he really does, but what comes out of his mouth instead is, “I don’t think you should do that,” and it hurts, to watch the way Jimmy’s face falls at that.

“Why?” he asks, and it’s a little awkward, and Brady hates that the most, whenever Jimmy gets awkward around him.

“Don’t you think - I mean, they guys aren’t stupid,” Brady says. “They’re probably gonna figure it out.”

Jimmy narrows his eyes. “This isn’t about that,” he says, and he says it so slowly, like Brady didn’t catch it the first time.

“Are you sure?” Brady asks, and all he can think about is Jimmy saying that he pushed him, before, and what if -

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asks, now, and he sounds honestly confused.

“I’m just saying, they’re gonna put two and two together and what then?” Brady counters. His palms are sweating again, and he swears, he didn’t use to have sweaty palms until Jimmy.

Jimmy purses his lips. He takes a deep breath and says, very calmly, “I think you’re being a little paranoid right now.”

Brady's heart is thumping in his chest, his eyes ringing, and all he can think about is twenty people figuring it out, twenty people knowing about Brady when Brady hardly knows himself. “That’s rich,” Brady finally says, and it’s just like last time. Brady can see Jimmy’s face contort, his body jerking with it.

Brady doesn’t get to often see Jimmy lose his chill, but he does now. “Jesus Christ,” Jimmy says. He shakes his head and stands up, and Brady is struck there, watching him, still trying to protect himself, and it doesn’t strike him until Jimmy is out of the door, that he never has to do that around Jimmy.

It doesn’t strike him until Jimmy’s already left, what big of a step this is for Jimmy, Jimmy, who, until a year ago, shook at the thought of anyone knowing. Brady thinks about that and has to laugh then, a little bitterly, at how accurately their positions have reversed.

And Brady was so busy looking after his own ass that he couldn't even be bothered to say _I’m proud of you._

+

Brady worries that Jimmy won’t come home that night, and it won’t be exactly undeserving. He’d get it, if Jimmy did that. Brady aches to apologize, but he knows it shouldn't be easy, he doesn’t deserve that.

Jimmy comes home though; a couple of hours later Brady hears the tell-tale sound of a key fitting against the lock, and he sits up straighter, runs his hands over his face. Jimmy takes his time, getting to the living room, but at least he makes it there and doesn’t ignore Brady.

“Hey,” he says, and his lips are set into a firm line. He leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks so frigid, and Brady says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’m sorry.”

Jimmy’s lips thin impossibly more, and he looks off to the side. “I know you are,” he says. “But you can’t just - you can’t do this, Brady,” he goes on. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I know,” Brady says quickly, because right now, he’d say - he’d do - anything to take the last two hours back.

Jimmy huffs. He pushes himself off the wall and starts pacing, back and forth in the tiny empty space of their living room. “No, you don’t,” he says. “This isn’t - it’s isn’t easy for me. And I wouldn't be where I am without you, without your help.” he looks at Brady as he says this, and Brady's heart flips in his chest, he swears.

“But you can’t just keep throwing this stuff back at me whenever you’re up against the wall,” Jimmy finishes. He rubs his hands over his face, and he’s still pacing, up and down, and Brady can’t stand to watch him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it, he doesn’t know what he was thinking.

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Jimmy says. He finally stops pacing, comes to sit on the couch instead, as far away from Brady as he can.

“I want you to understand where I’m coming from,” Jimmy says.

“I do, Jimmy, I really do,” Brady says, and wants to take the words back as soon as they're out of his mouth, because Brady _doesn’t_. Jimmy’s never actively sharp with him, not the way Brady has. “I’m sorry about what I said,” he ends up saying again, and it’s so - it’s lacking, and Brady's sure Jimmy can tell.

They sit there in silence for a few minutes, Brady looking at Jimmy and Jimmy looking at the floor, until Brady can’t take it anymore. “Jimmy,” he says. “Please look at me.”

It takes Jimmy a while. Takes him seconds that Brady counts in his head, thirty two of them, and then Jimmy turns to face Brady, and he looks - sad, is what he looks. Defeated, and Brady hates that. Hates that he’s made Jimmy feel like most of all.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again.

Jimmy nods, takes the it the same way he takes everything else that Brady dishes out, even stuff that he shouldn’t.

“Okay,” he says. He takes a breath and stands up, and Brady stands up with him. “I’m gonna - I’m gonna go to bed, I think,” he says.

Brady checks his watch. It’s not that late, but Jimmy looks beat, and Brady feels it. He thinks about following Jimmy to bed but something stops him, something in the slump of Jimmy’s shoulders. “Should I - do you want me to sleep in my bed tonight?”

Jimmy gives Brady this tiny smile then, like he’s a little relieved, and Brady hates himself so much. “I think - that would be better, yeah,” he says.

Brady tries to have any obvious reaction to that, except he thinks he kind of fails, because Jimmy immediately follows it up with, “I’ll get over it. I just - I need some time, right now.”

Brady can’t do much with that other than nod, so he does that.

Jimmy smiles again and starts to leave. He turns around at the last moment and walks up to Brady, leans in to brush their lips together, a barely there thing, but it gets Brady breathing, for what feels like the first time since Jimmy said _I was thinking_.

Brady sleeps alone that night for the first time since getting back to New York, and it sucks. The bed is too wide, the covers too cold, and the space feels vacant, hollow without the sound of Jimmy’s breathing. Brady ends up tossing and turning for most of the night, listening to the sounds of the city outside his window, wondering if Jimmy’s doing the same.

He spends the rest of the night wondering how he could have been so stupid, stupid enough to hurt Jimmy like this again, when all Jimmy does is trust him. And then Brady takes that trust and throws it right back in his face with just a few harsh words. And Jimmy doesn’t deserve that.

+

The next morning, Brady wakes up with a plan. He goes into the kitchen and grabs Jimmy’s apron and his phone, googles until he finds a relatively executable pancake recipe that he’s pretty sure he's not going to screw up. After a quick look through the fridge and the cupboards to make sure they’ve got everything, Brady takes out a bowl and sets about mixing together the ingredients.

Brady thinks he’s doing pretty well, at least until Jimmy comes in from his bedroom and Brady actually drops the spatula onto the counter. He scrambles to pick up and continues flipping the pancakes, because burning them would really be bad, right about now.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to make fancy green pancakes,” he says. He has an inkling he might look ridiculous, with the apron and the spatula, and totally out of his depth.

Jimmy just smiles though, crookedly like he does sometimes. “That’s okay,” he says. He and Brady look at each other a little more, and then Jimmy’s crossing the distance between them and kissing Brady and Brady lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Okay, maybe he totally had, but the point is, he breathes now.

Jimmy guides Brady back a little, until Brady’s ass hits the counter and then some, and keeps kissing him, practically making out, now, and like -

“It’s just pancakes,” Brady pulls back to say. He’s flushed, he can just tell, and Jimmy looking at him like that with his crooked smile isn’t helping matters.

“Thank you,” Jimmy says, and it sounds - it sounds really heartfelt, is the problem, makes Brady wonder what the hell he’d been doing until now. Taking Jimmy for granted is probably the answer.

The thought puts a damper on Brady’s mood, just a little, and he turns around, away from Jimmy and back to the stove. Jimmy comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Brady’s middle, and Brady’s pretty sure he’s about three seconds from losing it.

“You're gonna make me burn them,” he says weakly, and Jimmy relents.

“Okay, chef, whatever you say,” he says, and steps back.

Brady still ends up burning the pancakes a little, but Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind, so. He keeps shooting Brady glances over the table, a little sneaky like he’s happy to be getting away with this, and Brady - he loves him so much.

It’s not the first time Brady’s had that thought, but it is the first time it has paralyzed him. He almost drops his fork, and he’s pretty sure his mouth hangs open really unattractively, and what is he even doing here. He wants to give Jimmy - well, he wants to give him everything, and all he’s got so far are burnt pancakes and bad serenades.

“Wanna go out tonight?” Brady asks now.

Jimmy nods easily, mouth full of pancake, so Brady elaborates.

“The two of us, I mean,” he says. “Like a date.” The word feels heavy, foreign, especially applied to the two of them. Brady is almost scared to utter it, but it beats burnt fucking pancakes.

Jimmy frowns, and he looks a little mortified, probably remembering the disaster that was the last time the two of them went out on their own. Brady can’t blame him but he doesn’t want his fears to taint their entire time together. He curls his foot under Jimmy’s ankle, and Jimmy’s foot twitches once before he relaxes into it.

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks. “You don’t need to prove anything to me,” he says, and Brady kind of does.

“I am,” Brady says, because he does. When Jimmy still looks unconvinced, he adds, “I promise it will be more fun than last time.”

Jimmy chuckles at that. He looks down at the table and then at Brady and says, “Okay,” and Brady lets out another breath.

“Okay,” he echoes. He wishes, for a moment, that their table were narrower so he could lean across it and kiss Jimmy, but, as it is, he settles for nudging their feet together.

+

They lose the game, which isn’t a great start to any date. Jimmy’s in a terrible mood - he was a minus two for the night - and Brady vows to change that. He waits for him outside the locker room and keeps up a steady stream of chatter on the way to the car, mostly meaningless stuff that he hopes will make Jimmy laugh. It doesn’t, for the most part, at least until they make it to the car and Jimmy finally cracks a smile.

“Ah, he smiles,” Brady says then, and will never admit out loud how actually accomplished he feels to having drawn a smile out of Jimmy.

“Shut up,” Jimmy huffs. He bumps his shoulder into Brady and then freezes, and Brady hates that so much, that he made Jimmy have that reaction. He suppresses the urge to look around and instead knocks their shoulders together again, and nothing bad happens. Jimmy smiles again and gets the in the car, asks Brady where they’re going.

“It’s a surprise,” Brady says cryptically, to which Jimmy rolls his eyes.

Pizza isn’t exactly original, but they both like it, and Brady opted for the safe route. He and Jimmy sit on opposite ends of the table, and it’s a small table, with a candle in the middle, and it probably looks - it probably looks coupley, is Brady’s point. The place is packed, and Brady’s heart starts beating a little quicker after he realizes that.

He has to stop himself from looking around, checking to see if anyone’s looking at them, and the urge doesn’t really stop throughout the night. He thought it might, after his realization, and has to stifle his disappointment.

“You okay?” Jimmy asks.

Brady shakes his head. He’d been staring at the candle, he realizes. He looks at Jimmy, now, and Jimmy looks a little disappointed, in the blink-and-you’d-miss-it sort of way. “Yeah,” Brady says quickly. “It’s just - it’s the candle,” he goes on. “It’s throwing me off.”

Jimmy looks at the candle between them and frowns. He looks up at Brady then back at the candle and blows on it until it goes out. “Better?” he asks. He’s smiling, and he looks hopeful, and just that makes Brady feel better, fuck the candle.

“For sure,” he says. He thinks about it then takes a breath and touches their ankles under the table, because what’s the worst thing people could think? Those dudes are touching feet? And if they do think that, why should Brady care?

Brady tells himself all this, but he still only makes it maybe two minutes before he has to pull his foot away because he’s sweating too hard. It doesn’t end up mattering anyway because Jimmy spends the rest of the dinner smiling around his pizza, and that’s all Brady wanted to begin with.

After dinner, they go to watch a movie, some slasher flick that Brady found online. It’s only maybe a dozen people in the theater, and it’s dark, there’s no one in their row. Plus, the movie is kind of freaky, so Brady thinks it’s totally justified when he reaches across the armrest to take Jimmy’s hand.

Jimmy turns to look at him, and, even in the dark, Brady can make out his stupid, crooked smile. “Watch the movie,” Brady hisses, which makes Jimmy snort.

Brady’s hand is sweating so bad, but Jimmy doesn’t let go. He pushes the armrest up and throws his jacket over their hands and that makes Brady feel better, marginally. He squeezes Jimmy’s fingers and keeps holding his hand until the last five minutes of the movie, at which point he grows too paranoid about the lights coming on and has to let go.

Jimmy keeps shooting Brady smiles, on their way back home, and that in itself is enough to get Brady smiling again. Still, he doesn’t truly relax until the door to the apartment is shut behind them, and by then both his skin and his shirt are soaked with sweat. It’s worth it though, for the way Jimmy presses him up against the wall and kisses him, hot and heavy, the way Brady hasn’t been kissed in a while.

“So, I take it you liked it?” Brady asks, once Jimmy pulls back. His breathing is heavy, and the words are a little slurred because Jimmy literally kissed the breath out of him.

Jimmy rolls his eyes and kiss him again, fits his thigh between Brady’s and presses up against him. “Liked it,” he scoffs, kissing Brady’s jaw, and Brady can’t do much else other than let his head rest against the door and catch his breath.

“Come on,” Jimmy says. He takes Brady’s hand and leads down the hall to his room. He lays Brady out on the bed and climbs over him, throwing his jacket off at the same time, and Brady’s pretty sure he’s never seen him this eager before. It gets him going, and pretty soon he’s rutting up into Jimmy, trying to find the right angle through layers of clothing.

It doesn’t really work, and after a couple of minutes Jimmy huffs and climbs off him, taking off the rest of his clothes. Brady starts doing the same, but then Jimmy’s fingers are on him, taking over, so Brady stops and just watches him. Watches his easy confidence, the way he looks up at Brady through his ridiculously long eyelashes innocently, like he has no idea what he’s doing. His crooked smile that Brady loves so much.

Jimmy leans over Brady and kisses his way down Brady’s chest, his stomach and his hipbones, until Brady is squirming with it, itching for the touch of Jimmy’s lips. Jimmy lays between Brady’s legs then and kisses the inside of his thighs, the crease between Brady’s hip and his torso, soft.

The room is dark, the only light coming from the bedside table lamp, but Brady feels so naked, like this. Jimmy, like he can tell what Brady’s feeling, squeezes his fingers around Brady's thigh. He looks up to give Brady a smile and brushes his lips over Brady’s hip again, grazes his teeth over the jut of it.

It tickles, a little, but it mostly feels like being close to Jimmy, and Brady’s never going to pass up on that. He reaches down and links their fingers together on his thigh, squeezes hard when Jimmy finally takes him into his mouth.

“Jimmy,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say, has forgotten how to tell Jimmy he feels good, maybe, or he isn’t sure if Jimmy wants to hear it.

Brady has to let go of Jimmy’s hand at some point so he can shift up into his elbows and watch Jimmy, because it’s - Jimmy looks so good, on the bed between Brady’s legs, long lashes fluttering as he takes Brady deeper and deeper into his mouth. His confidence is the best thing about him, Brady thinks and both loves and envies, wonders if Jimmy got with him or someone else. Decides it doesn’t matter, as long as he gets to have Jimmy now.

Brady’s elbows start to shake at some point, and he falls back into the mattress, lets his eyes fall shut and arches into Jimmy's touch. Jimmy pulls back then, for a moment. Brady can’t tell what he's doing, but a second later he feels Jimmy’s fingers press against his hole. He tenses up, at first, because they’ve never - they’ve never done that before, not together, and Brady’s thought about it, even wants it but he didn’t think it was going to be tonight, and Jimmy -

“Hey,” Jimmy says, from where he’s laying between Brady’s legs. “I got you,” he says. The words make Brady shiver, pressed against his thigh, but this is - it’s Jimmy.

Brady spreads his legs open farther, tipping his hips up because he can’t quite find the words to explain that to Jimmy, and lets out a choked noise when Jimmy starts rubbing two fingers over his hole.

“Let me know if anything doesn’t feel good,” Jimmy says, and Brady can feel his breath on the inside of his thighs.

“Jimmy,” he says, and Jimmy kisses his way up Brady’s thigh, his balls, and then his tongue is next to fingers, on Brady, and Brady is not a prude but no girl has ever done _this_ to him before.

“Jimmy,” he says again, but stops in his tracks because that’s Jimmy’s tongue and Brady is vaguely certain that this isn't supposed to feel this good, it can’t.

Jimmy lets out a breath that makes Brady shiver and throws Brady’s leg over his shoulder, spreading his open farther, and Brady - it’s so much, the whole thing, has Brady choking on his breath, eyes squeezed shut and hands fisted in the sheets as he tries to keep it together.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy,” he keeps saying and this is the most Brady’s talked in a while, when they’re like this.

Jimmy is relentless. It’s like every noise Brady makes him only makes him work harder for it, and Brady's sweating so much, his toes curling, leg tensing where it’s resting on Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy wraps his hand around Brady’s dick, at some point, and Brady’s half worried he’ll end up kicking him in the head, it feels so good.

Brady can feel Jimmy’s stubble dragging against the inside of his cheeks, and he trembles, pushes back into it. Jimmy makes a sound like he’s pleased and it gets Brady hot, knowing that Jimmy’s getting off on this. He pushes into his hand and arching up off the bed, and Jimmy tightens his fingers, and Brady's pretty much a goner after that, coming in spurts across his own stomach and Jimmy’s fingers.

Brady collapses back into the bed after and Jimmy pulls back to laugh at him. He starts to climb on top of Brady so he can jerk off, presumably, but Brady -

“You should - ” he finds himself saying, “On me.” He feels his face start to burn as soon as the words are out, then has to pause and wonder when the hell he had the time to get embarrassed about sex in the first place. Supposes it was right about the time he realized he wanted Jimmy for real, that what they had going was more than just sex.

“Yeah?” Jimmy asks now, and it’s a little shy, a lot like him. “You want me to mark you?”

Brady has too close his eyes for a second at the question. When he opens them again, Jimmy is looking at him, and Brady nods, gestures at his blotchy chest.

Jimmy smiles and straddles Brady’s thighs, starts stroking himself off. Brady still feels too uncoordinated to be much help so he settles for running his hands up and down Jimmy’s thighs, feeling the muscles there tense as he gets closer.

It doesn’t take Jimmy long, and then his eyes are sliding shut, his hand speeding up until he’s coming on Brady’s abs, marking - marking him up.

Jimmy drops onto the bed next to Brady like dead weight after, his face mashed into Brady’s shoulder. Brady gets to bask in it all for about half a minute before he starts to feel utterly disgusting, but it’s worth it, he decides.

“So,” he starts, after Jimmy's caught his breath and Brady’s pulled a sheet over them.

Jimmy pulls back from Brady’s shoulder and shifts onto his side, their eyes level. “Yes,” he asks. He’s smiling, still, and for a second Brady pretty much forgets his question.

“Uhm,” he fumbles, and Jimmy leans in to kiss him. “On a scale of one-to-ten, how would you rate our date?” he asks, once Jimmy’s pulled back.

Jimmy purses his lips and pretends to think about it for a moment. Then, he says, “A ten.”

“Just ten?” Brady asks, and he’s a little bit disappointed. “I was going for at least a twelve.”

Jimmy frowns. “You said a scale of one-to-ten,” he argues.

Brady rolls his eyes. “Yes, but it’s supposed to be - ”

“Brady,” Jimmy says gently. “I’d give it a thirteen if it’d make you happy,” he says, and his voice is so - it's’ so soft, it makes Brady’s heart curl in his chest a little bit.

“A thirteen it is, then,” he agrees.

+

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jimmy starts, the next day, after they get home from practice. They’re on the couch, Jimmy reading through the newspaper and Brady fiddling with his guitar, and Brady pulls at the wrong string.

“Sorry, it’s nothing bad,” Jimmy is quick to say. He puts the newspaper aside and shifts closer to Brady, which doesn’t seem encouraging at all.  

“Okay,” Brady says slowly. He almost puts the guitar aside but he kind of wants this buffer between them, now.

“I had a great time last night,” Jimmy says. It sounds genuine and Brady doesn’t know what to do with that. “But I think, after the fight we had - ” Brady winces at that can’t help it. “I went about it the wrong way.”

“Went about what?” Brady asks. There’s a slightly terrified edge to his voice, and he wishes Jimmy doesn’t pick up on it.

Jimmy gives Brady a soft look and comes to sit next to him on the couch. “Last night was great, but you shouldn't have had to go through that alone just because you thought you had to make it up to me,” he says. The words sound practiced, and Brady wonders how long Jimmy spent on them.

“I don’t - I don’t really understand, Jimmy,” Brady says. He _wanted_ to that for Jimmy, Jimmy deserves after Brady was an asshole to him.

“I know what it feels like, to be where you are,” Jimmy says. The words come slower now, a little less practiced, a little more awkward, like this is affecting Jimmy too. “And it’s not easy. And I didn’t get through it on my own,” Jimmy pauses, and Brady looks away. “I had you,” he finishes.

Brady swallows, his heart thumping in his chest. “Jimmy, I didn’t do anything,” he says.

“Maybe that’s what you think, but it meant a lot to me, having you there,” Jimmy says. He reaches out and put his hand on Brady’s knee, squeezes once. “And when I say I wouldn't be where I am without you, I mean that.”

Brady’s chest feels heavy, all of a sudden, and his eyes itch, because Jimmy is one of the kindest people Brady knows, and here he is laying his heart out for Brady.

“And I want to do the same for you, if you want,” Jimmy goes on.

Brady’s eyes are full-on stinging now, and he can’t help it, he he scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, I…” he tries, but doesn’t know what else to say. He thinks about all the stuff that he’s got in his head and how little of it he lets slip to Jimmy because he doesn’t want to burden him.

“Would that be fair to you, though?” Brady finds himself asking, because that’s what’s been bugging him the most. He doesn’t want to force Jimmy to go through everything again, not after how difficult it was for Jimmy to do it the first time.

“It’s not fair to me to watch you put this all on yourself,” Jimmy says.

Brady has to suck in a breath at that, overwhelmed. He feels Jimmy’s hand move from his knee his shoulder and leans into it. Brady puts the guitar aside and settles back against the couch, and Jimmy moves his arm to wrap around his shoulders.

“I just - ” Brady starts, and it feels tougher than it should, when this is Jimmy. “I don’t want people to look at me differently.”

“Some will,” Jimmy says, without missing a beat. “Those who matter won’t.”

Brady nods. He keeps wanting to go through this like nothing has changed, and so many things have. He’s stopped lying to himself but has started to lie to everyone else. He has Jimmy now, most of all.

They stay like that for the longest time, Brady running through most of what he’s got in his head and Jimmy listening patiently, and by the end Brady feels naked, stripped down to his very bones. He’s exhausted, but his heart is beating quickly and his hands are shaking a little. He looks around and he can’t be here right now.

Brady gets up and tells Jimmy he’s going for a walk, and Jimmy takes that too. Nods and tells Brady to call him if he stays out too late.

Brady doesn’t stay out for long. He just ends up walking around the block a handful of times, trying to clear his head. He mostly fails.

Jimmy’s cooking dinner, when Brady makes it back home. He’s slowly expanded from breakfast to dinner foods, and he’ll usually try out something new if he has time. Brady doesn’t know what he’s working on now, except it smells sort of nice and garlicky.

“Hey,” Jimmy says when he hears Brady come in. He turns around to give Brady a smile, and Brady walks over and kisses him.

“Hi,” he says, shifting to lean against the counter. They sit in silence for a while for a while, just the sizzling of whatever Jimmy’s got cooking, and then Brady blurts out, “I thought about it.”

“Thought about what?” Jimmy asks. He sets the lid on the pan and turns towards Brady.

“I think - ” Brady stops to take a breath, then says in one go, “Maybe it would be alright for you to tell your parents.”

Jimmy looks at him for a moment, and then his eyes widen, just a little. “Are you sure?” he asks. He moves to sit against the counter, next to Brady, close enough that their arms touch.

“I’m as sure as I’ll ever be,” Brady says, and that’s all he’s got, he doesn’t know how to better explain it, but the thing he’s got in his chest, he doesn’t think it’ll get any lighter unless he does this. Brady doesn’t want to try to explain all that to Jimmy though, and thankfully he doesn’t have to.

“I get that,” Jimmy says, and it’s such a relief, to hear him say that. Brady sags against the counter and Jimmy is there, knocking their shoulders together. “But are you sure you’re doing this for you?” he asks, quiet, like he doesn’t want to spook Brady.

Brady shrugs, a little exaggerated. “I gotta start somewhere, and I’m not ready - my parents, I’m not ready to start there,” he says.

“Alright,” Jimmy says. “I’ll call them tomorrow, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s - ” Brady huffs, has to, because this is pretty big for Jimmy, Brady knows, but he’s still here, asking if this works for Brady. “That’s okay,” Brady says. He pushes off the counter and moves in front of Jimmy, cups his hand around the back of Jimmy’s neck and leans in to kiss him, once.

“Thank you,” he says, once he pulls back, and it’s not even - Brady can’t even put it into words, all that he’s thanking Jimmy for.

Jimmy sits there smiling dopily at Brady for a few seconds, and then he jerks away, reaching for the spatula. “Shit, the food,” he says, and Brady pulls away, laughing.

The food comes out a little scorched around the edges, but Brady eats it anyway, doesn’t really care, as long as he gets to eat it with Jimmy.

+

They leave for Dallas the next day, so Jimmy doesn’t really have time to call his parents in the morning. Brady isn’t on edge, per se, but he wants to know what they’ll say, how they’ll take it, if they’ll disapprove of Jimmy dating a teammate - dating Brady.

They lose against the Stars, and, when they get back to the hotel, Jimmy heads straight for his room. Stays there for a good half hour, a half hour that Brady spends biting his nails and flipping compulsively through the channels on TV. By the time Jimmy knocks on his door, Brady is a nervous wreck, vibrating out of his skin. He wonders how much better or worse it is for Jimmy, but then he opens the door and Jimmy’s got this huge smile on his face, and Brady pretty much relaxes instantly.

“It went well?” Brady asks, as soon as the door is shut behind them. The question comes with an odd sense of deja vu, of last year, but Brady quickly pushes the thought away. So many things have changed since last year and so many haven’t, but Brady likes to think he and Jimmy have changed for the better.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Jimmy says cryptically, and Brady is pretty sure, Jimmy’s doing it to mess with him.

“Dude,” he says, to convey that.

Jimmy laughs and flops down on Brady’s bed. “My dad suspected I had someone, so he was pretty happy. Mom asked how long we’ve been dating,” he says. “They asked when they could come out to meet you,” he goes on.

“We’ve already met,” Brady says stupidly.

Jimmy doesn’t rolls his eyes, but Brady thinks it’s a close thing. “Officially, I mean,” he says.

Brady is torn between relief and anxiety at that, and he must look it, too.

“I told them it’s probably a little soon for that,” Jimmy says. He doesn’t sound disappointed and he’s still smiling, so Brady doesn’t let that bring him down. He goes to sit on the bed next to Jimmy, takes the remote out of Jimmy’s hand so he’s got his full attention before leaning in to kiss him.

“I’m really happy they took it well,” Brady murmurs against Jimmy’s lips.

Jimmy chuckles and kisses him again, a little deeper, a little more urgent. Threads his fingers through Brady’s hair and throws a leg over his, and Brady’s heart is ringing in his ears. He wonders when it’ll stop, when it comes to Jimmy, if ever.

“Me, too,” Jimmy says softly.

+

Brady barges into their bedroom a few days later to find Jimmy facetiming his dad. “Sorry!” he says quickly, and makes to get out, but he catches a muffled, “Is that Brady?” coming from the phone, which cuts him short.

“Get him over here, I wanna say hi,” Jimmy’s dad goes on, and Brady’s pretty sure he's doing his best impression of a deer caught in the headlights right now.

Jimmy takes one look at him and says, “He’s gotta run, Dad.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Jimmy’s dad argues, and Brady’s heart is beating quickly, his fingers sweating, but - Jimmy’s dad already knows. He knows, and he said he wanted to meet Brady again officially, and how bad could it be.

“It’s cool,” Brady says, before he can talk himself out of it. He walks over to the bed slowly, sits down even more so.

Jimmy’s looking at him a little hesitantly, but he turns the phone to face Brady. “Hi, Mr. Vesey,” Brady says, and only fumbles with the words a little bit.

“Call me Jim,” Jimmy’s dad tells him easily.

Brady’s already half dreading this, but Jimmy’s dad just talks to him about hockey, which makes sense. He tells Brady he’s playing well, and Brady tries not to blush too hard at that, probably fails.

“Thank you,” he says, and leaves the room pretty soon after, to let Jimmy and his dad keep talking.

Brady goes to the kitchen for some water and  imagines his mom making Jimmy blush, and he wants that. Imagines his dad talking hockey with him, his brother trying to intimidate him, and he wants that too. He wants so much, when it comes to Jimmy, and it feels like most of it is just out of his reach. Maybe not anymore though.

Brady picks up his phone and dials his mom’s number, figures she’ll probably be home, at this hour. Jimmy glances towards him but doesn’t otherwise react, just keeps reading his book. The phone rings and rings some more, and then Brady’s mom picks up. There are noises in the background, Brady’s dad asking if it’s Brady on the phone and Brady figures this is the best chance he’ll get.

His mom asks him how he’s been doing, and Brady starts to sweat, merely manages to mumble out an answer.

“Brady, are you okay?” his mom asks, and there’s a what’s wrong from Brady’s dad in the background.

“Yeah, I’m - everything is good,” Brady manages, and Jimmy’s looking at him now, intent and quiet having set his book aside.

“Are you sure?” Brady’s mom asks and Brady takes a breath. Remembers how he felt at the restaurant, the words almost out of his mouth but not quite, and has to fight against the urge to hang up.

Brady gets up and walks over to the window, looks outside for a moment. He turns around and look sat Jimmy and their eyes meet, and all Brady can think about is how right his mom was, when she thanked Jimmy for not letting Brady waste away.

“I’m seeing someone,” Brady blurts out, and Jimmy’s eyes grow wide. He sits up, and his hands twitch, like he wants to reach out for Brady. Brady goes to sit next to him on the couch.

“Brady, honey, that’s great,” his mom say, from the other end of the line. “What’s her name?” she asks, and she sounds so excited.

Brady swallows, reaches out for Jimmy’s hand and laces their fingers together. He takes a breath, thinks about his mom making Jimmy flush and his dad talking hockey with him. “His name is Jimmy,” Brady says. “You know him.”

The silence that follows is almost deafening. It has Brady squeezing the fuck out of Jimmy’s fingers, until he’s sure Jimmy’s fingers are twinging. “Brady,” his mom says, and Brady closes his eyes. “Is this a joke?”

Brady opens his eyes, lets go of Jimmy and walks over to the window again. “No,” he says evenly. “Why would it be a joke?”

“I don’t know, you’ve never - you’ve never mentioned liking - ” she cuts herself off, and it hurts Brady, hearing her struggle with this.

“It’s not a joke, Mom,” he says. His heart is beating under his ribs, and every beat feels like a thump, has his chest contracting, his lungs squeezing. “I really like him,” he says. And then, because he can’t help it, “Is that okay?” His voice is so small, and Brady doesn’t even want to be looking at Jimmy as he says this, doesn’t think he’d be able to stand that.

“Oh, Brady,” his mom. Her voice is a little watery, and Brady literally will not be able to hold it together if she starts crying. “Of course it’s okay,” she says, and Brady lets out this breath from deep inside him, feels his eyes start to water with relief. “Jimmy’s a good boy,” she goes on, and Brady sucks in a breath, wet.

“He really is,” he says.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Since April,” Brady says. His voice is shaky, and he really wants to hang up now, inexplicably, feels like this is all too much. “Hey, can you - uhm, can you tell dad?” he asks. “Just - Just dad. No one else.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him?”

“No, I will,” Brady says quickly, and his chest feels tight. “I’ll call him tomorrow. But - just - ”

“Of course, honey,” his mom says easily. “I’ll tell him.”

“Okay.” Brady nods, even though she can’t see him. “I gotta go now.”

“Alright. Love you,” his mom says, and Brady -

“Love you too,” he says. He hangs up the phone immediately after and then Jimmy’s behind him, his arms wrapped around Brady’s waist, his nose buried in Brady’s shoulder.

Jimmy doesn’t ask Brady any questions, and for that, Brady is unspeakably grateful. Jimmy just lets Brady lean back into him, and, when Brady takes his hand, follows him to the bedroom. Kisses Brady back, when Brady brushes their lips together.

They get on the bed, at some point, clothes off and left somewhere on the floor. They kiss, for the longest time, hands roaming over skin, and then Jimmy’s pushing Brady onto his back, climbing between his legs.

They grind together, and Jimmy’s dick rubs over Brady’s hole, and Brady jolts, can’t help it. Jimmy starts to shift, and Brady tightens his legs around him, holds him in place.

“Keep going,” he says, and his voice is a little short, kind of shaky.

Jimmy leans down to kiss Brady’s jaw, his cheek before he reaches for his lips. Between them, they figure it out, Brady arching into Jimmy’s stomach and Jimmy working himself between Brady’s legs, and Brady feels so much. His fingers ache, where he’s holding onto Jimmy’s shoulders, and he keeps shivering randomly, at the feeling of Jimmy’s dick dragging against him. He has to bite back on all the sounds he wants to make, doesn’t want to see too eager.

Jimmy moves again, and his dick catches on Brady’s hole, and Brady can’t help it then. His legs twitch and he chokes on his breath, has to bite his lips to keep quiet.

“Let me hear you,” Jimmy says gently, and Brady’s heart beats in his ears, behind his eyes; in his throat, in his stomach, on his lips.

Jimmy shifts again, rocking harder, and it’s - he’s so close, Brady figures he could, if he pushed a little more. He makes a noise at the thought, and Jimmy shivers, Brady feels it under his fingertips.

“That’s it,” Jimmy murmurs, and Brady feels like he’s going to break apart, it’s so much.

“Can you - just the tip?” he asks, heart in his throat, fingers squeezing bruises into Jimmy’s shoulders.

“Jesus, Brady,” Jimmy asks, and he sounds pained. His hips twitch on their own accord, and Brady chokes on his breath. “Are you - ”

“Yeah, just.” Brady breathes out. “Please,” he says.

Jimmy is struck motionless for a moment and then he’s scrambling, pulling himself out of Brady’s reach so he can pull the nightstand drawer open. “Where the fuck - ” he’s mumbling, and Brady has to chuckle at that, a little. It makes his chest feel lighter, all of a sudden, and he relaxes, sits up so he can wrap his arm around Jimmy’s chest and kiss the back of his neck.

Jimmy shivers, leaning back into Brady. He curls his fingers around Brady’s wrist and kisses his forearm, shifting through whatever crap he’s got in his drawer with his other hand. “Found it,” he says after a few seconds, and nudges at Brady until he’s laying on his back.

Brady jerks, at the first touch of Jimmy’s wet fingers on him, and Jimmy slows impossibly further.

“You’re good,” Brady tells him, spreading his legs a little more, urging him on.

“Yeah?” Jimmy murmurs, and Brady thinks it’s rhetorical or something, can’t be bothered to answer it, not when Jimmy’s touching him like this.

“You look - amazing,” Jimmy goes on. He moves so slow, working Brady open on his fingers, and Brady’s legs tremble, his whole body with them, it feels like. He arches into it, moving with Jimmy, and soon Jimmy goes from one finger to two to three and Brady’ breathing hard, sweating all over.

“You can - you should, now,” he says, and he’s not even making much sense but Jimmy seems to get it.

He pulls back to reach for the box of condoms, and they’ve never talked about it but Brady thinks he’d like to feel just Jimmy, now. He shelves that thought for another time though, nods, now, when Jimmy asks if he’s ready.

“Okay,” Jimmy says. He starts pushing, and for the longest time, nothing happens, and then suddenly Brady can feel it, feel _Jimmy_ , inside him, and it kind of burns, has Brady reaching for Jimmy’s hip to hold him in place.

Jimmy waits Brady out, and then he pulls out, pushes back in slowly. Brady can’t see, but he thinks Jimmy’s fucking him with the tip of dick, or at least that’s what it feels like, and it’s - it’s so not enough. It has Brady arching his back, pushing into it as he tries to get more of Jimmy inside him, and it probably looks shameless, hungry, and Brady can’t even bring himself to care.

“You should - deeper,” he says, at some point, can’t help it, and Jimmy makes this choked off noise of relief, works himself a little deeper inside Brady.

It feels so new, has Brady tightening around him, and Jimmy lets his head fall onto Brady’s shoulder, his nose pressed to Brady’s neck.

“Jesus, you feel so good, baby” Jimmy says.

Brady’s face burns, he can just tell, but he - it feels so good to hear that. “Oh god,” he breathes.

Jimmy curls his hand around Brady’s thigh and hitches Brady’s leg up higher around him, and it somehow makes him go deeper, has Brady shaking. “Fuck, Jimmy,” he says. He wraps his arms around Jimmy and holds him close, nails pushing indents into the skin of Jimmy’s back.

“Yeah?” Jimmy murmurs. “You like it?”

Brady, in answer, tightens around Jimmy and kisses his shoulder, and Jimmy gasps, so Brady thinks that’s answer enough.

Jimmy wraps a hand around him, at some point, starts stroking Brady off, and it takes Brady maybe two minutes before he’s coming, going tight all over. Jimmy makes a sound, and then he’s pulling out, stripping off the condom so he can jerk off on Brady’s stomach. He wipes it up after, with a towel, and then he leans down and presses a kiss to Brady’s chest.

They’re quiet, just breathing together, for quite some time.

“My mom said you’re a good boy,” Brady says randomly, when they’re laying together later.

Jimmy stirs from where he’s resting his head on Brady’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I think that’s a good sign,” Brady says. He kisses the top of Jimmy’s head and tightens his arm around him, just to be safe.

+

Brady wakes up the next morning to three missed calls from his dad, all from the previous night. He feels a sharp weight settle on his stomach, and suddenly he’s awake, climbing off the bed and heading over to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He splashes some water on his face first and then looks at his phone again, and the missed calls are still there, staring at him.

He figures he can’t avoid this, not forever, and now is as good a time as any, really. He thumbs open his phone and presses on his dad's number, brings the phone to his ear.

“Brady,” his dad picks up at the second ring. He sounds worried, more than anything, and Brady feels guilty, all of a sudden. “I’ve been calling you,” he says. He sounds a little groggy, and Brady checks the time, figures his dad must just be waking up for work.

“Yeah, sorry,” Brady fumbles. “I feel asleep, after - ” he cuts himself off, and there’s a pause, long enough to get Brady pacing in the small bathroom.

“Your mom told me - ” his dad pauses, clears his throat. “You and Jimmy,” he says.

It’s not really a question. “Yeah,” Brady says anyway. “Me and Jimmy.”

“That’s - Your mom told me it’s serious,” his dad says. “Is it?”

Brady swallows. He thinks about Jimmy lying in their bed, thinks about all that he feels for him. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

There’s silence, again, Brady’s heart beating in his throat, his hand sweating around the phone.

“Brady, I just - are you happy?” his dad asks. “I just want you to be happy.”

Brady quits pacing, takes a breath. “Yeah, dad,” he says. “I’m happy. Jimmy makes me happy.”

“That’s good,” his dad says quickly. “Listen, this is just an idea, and you can run it by Jimmy, but if you guys wanted, he could visit, for Christmas.”

Brady stops breathing for one quick moment, and then his shoulders slump. He smiles, has to lean against the sink for a moment. Brady’s pretty sure Jimmy will say no; he hasn’t seen his family since the summer, but just the thought of it, it makes Brady happy. “Yeah, dad, I’ll - ” his voice is heavy, and he pauses, swallows. “I’ll tell him you asked.”

When Brady makes it back to the bedroom, Jimmy is still bed. He’s laying on his stomach, fiddling with his phone, and he smiles at Brady when he sees him coming through the door.

“Hey,” he says. He puts his phone aside and rolls over onto his back, like an invitation, and Brady loves him so much.

“Hey,” he says back and moves onto the bed, straddles Jimmy’s legs. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you.” Jimmy’s hands settle on Brady’s thighs, warm and a little rough. “Everything okay?”

Jimmy probably heard Brady on the phone, Brady figures. He leans down and kisses him once before rolling off him. “It was my dad,” he says softly. “He asked me if you wanted to visit for Christmas.” Brady looks at Jimmy as he tells him, gets to see Jimmy’s eyes light up, his lips curve into a smile.

“I know you've already booked tickets to go home. It doesn’t have to be Christmas, necessarily,” he hurries to say, because he doesn’t want Jimmy to feel pressured.

“We’ll work something out,” Jimmy says. “As long as you want me to come?”

Brady - his chest feels light, for the first time in a while. He wants Jimmy and his dad to get along and he wants his mom to like Jimmy, and he’s sure they will. “I want you to come,” Brady says.

Jimmy smiles again. He leans across the scant space between them and kisses Brady. “Then we’ll work it out.”

+

Working it out turns out to be Jimmy spending Christmas with his family and then flying out to Minnesota on the same day. It’s not a short flight, and Jimmy looks exhausted when Brady picks him up from the airport.

“Hey,” Brady says, when Jimmy walks up to him at the arrivals terminal. He spreads his arms and Jimmy walks straight into them, and it’s like a scene out of a movie, even though they’ve only been away from each other for two days.

They pull apart, and Brady wants to kiss Jimmy so badly, figures that’s going to have to wait at least until the car. “You look exhausted,” he says instead, mostly something to do with his mouth.

Jimmy sighs. “I couldn't get any sleep last night,” he admits.

Brady narrows his eyes. “Were you nervous?” he asks, and it’s a little shy.

Jimmy bumps their shoulders together and starts walking towards the exit. It takes a second for Brady to catch up, and then takes Jimmy’s bag from him and falls into step next to him.

“Can you blame me?” Jimmy huffs.

Brady sets his face so it doesn’t turn into some sugary concoction right then and there. “They already like you,” he reasons.

Jimmy makes a non-committal noise and keeps walking.

“I’ve already told them to lay off the harassment for tonight,” Brady tells Jimmy, because he thinks Jimmy’s worrying is cute, but he doesn’t want Jimmy to be nervous.

Jimmy chuckles. “Thanks,” he says.

They do kiss, once they make it to car. It’s a little dry and the console is between them, and Brady can’t hold onto to Jimmy the way he wants to, not in the middle of the parking lot, but it’s enough, for now.

+

Brady’s parents, true to their word, don’t ask Jimmy too many questions that night. It’s mostly small talk about the flight and his family, and they let him and Brady go pretty soon, mindful of the time, now close to midnight.

Brady’s mom had asked him if he wanted her to set up the guest bedroom for Jimmy the previous day, and Brady had blushed his way through a mumbled, “No, my room will be fine.” Ramsey had been there and spent the rest of the day making fun of Brady for his blush, until Brady snapped and tackled him to the ground and the whole thing deteriorated into some form of wrestling match.

Brady and Jimmy get to share Brady’s twin bed, now. Jimmy looks at it dubiously when Brady shows him to his room, and asks Brady if he’s sure they’ll fit.

Brady waggles his eyebrows and takes off his shirt and jeans before getting under the covers. “Get in here,” he says, stares, as Jimmy takes off his own clothes and gets in bed.

They’re plastered together, like this, and it’s not the most terrible feeling. Usually, they’ll fall asleep touching only a little and wake up glued to each other, but they have no choice now. Brady can feel Jimmy’s skin, everywhere, and it’s kind of comforting, very warm.

Jimmy curls himself around Brady’s back, wraps his arms around Brady’s chest, and it’s all Brady can do, to lay there and breathe. “Okay, petition to get rid of your bed for a twin,” he mumbles, halfway between awakeness and sleep.

Jimmy snorts into the back of Brady’s neck. “You wouldn't last a week,” he says. His fingers are splayed over Brady’s stomach, his nose pressed to Brady’s shoulder.

“Totally would,” Brady mumbles, before falling asleep.

+

Brady wakes up alone, to an empty bed, and gets to panic over it for the whole three minutes it takes him to throw on some clothes and head downstairs. He stops short when he gets to the kitchen, because that’s definitely his mom laughing, laughing over something Jimmy said, by the looks of it, and Jimmy doesn’t need saving after all.

“Brady.” His mom sees him first, and ushers him inside. “Jimmy was just telling us about the first time he tried to do laundry at your place,” she says. She’s still half laughing, and Brady feels his stomach curl into itself, pleased. He looks at Jimmy - who is red to the tips of his ears - and gives him a wide smile.

“Yeah, that was a disaster,” he says. He walks over to Jimmy and touches his shoulder, as casual as he can manage, and it’s not what he wants to do at all, but he’s not about to shove his tongue down Jimmy's throat right in front of his parents.

“That was actually when I knew he was top notch relationship material,” Brady goes on.

Jimmy snorts and slaps his hand away, but he's laughing too.

“I cannot believe you seduced my parents through your incompetence,” Brady tells him later, when it’s just the two for them in his room, getting ready for lunch.

“What can I say, I’m a natural,” Jimmy jokes. He’s still smiling so wide, and Brady can’t help it, he leans in and kisses him, mumbles, “Thank you,” against his lips.

“What for?” Jimmy asks. He pulls back, and he’s a little confused.

“Trying,” Brady just says, because that’s honestly the best he can put it.

Jimmy’s face softens, and he gives Brady a crooked smile. “Thank you for inviting me,” he says.

Jimmy facetimes his parents later, and Brady asks him if it’s alright to talk to them. Jimmy looks a little taken aback by the request but nods and that’s how Brady ends up being officially introduced to Jimmy’s mom.

Brady apologizes to her for taking Jimmy away so soon but she shrugs it off, says, “Next year you’ll come to visit us?” She sounds a little uncertain, and Brady doesn’t know how much Jimmy has told her, but he nods, now.

“If you’ll have me,” he says. He glances at jimmy to find him smiling, and that alone is enough incentive.

+

Ramsey and Sarah come over, for lunch, and Brady would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about this. Ramsey had asked Brady if it was okay with him for Sarah to come, had said that either way was totally fine, and Brady had struggled for a moment before nodding.

Jimmy sticks extra close to Brady, like he can tell, and keeps their knees pressed together under the table. He answers enthusiastically when Ramsey asks him what it was like playing for Harvard, and launches into a couple of college hockey stories that make everyone laugh.

After lunch, Brady and Ramsey help their dad clean up and then the six of them move to the living room. Brady’s mom insists they play some sort of couple’s game, and Brady just about dies of embarrassment at the words. He and Jimmy exchange a look, and Jimmy shrugs, so Brady can’t do much else other than nod.

“The two of you have only been together for a few months, so I’m gonna go easy on you,” she promises, and Brady knows his mom, that’s about as ominous as she gets.

Still, the first couple of rounds go by relatively easily, with Ramsey and Brady making fun of each other for their answers, and then their mom pulls out the big guns.

“Jimmy, what does Brady love most about you?” she asks, grinning.

Brady gets to watch Jimmy flush down to his neck at the question, then fumble around an answer. “Is it - oh geez, I have no idea,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. “How funny I am?” he jokes, and Brady laughs too loudly.

“Close,” he says. Jimmy turns to look at him, a little frowny, and Brady says, “Your smile.”

Jimmy flushes even harder at that, somehow, and tries to duck his head, but Brady can still see him smiling.

“Oh my god,” Ramsey groans, and throws Brady a rolled up napkin.

+

“I’m coming out to the team,” Jimmy - he announces it, and Brady, his breath gets stuck in his throat. They’re back in new York, have been for about a week, and Brady’s about equipped for this conversation as one would think.

“What, I don’t get a say in this,” Brady says, and it sounds a little hurt, he can’t help it.

Jimmy’s face softens. He looks at the space between them and, for a moment, it looks like he’ll try to shift closer, but he doesn't. “Of course you do,” he says, and it’s honest. “That’s why I’m telling you.”

“It doesn’t sound like I am,” Brady mumbles, a little petulant, a lot childish.

Jimmy sighs. “I don’t - I have to do this, Brady. I can’t - I just can’t keep lying to them,” he says. He sounds frustrated, Brady knows him well enough to be able to tell that much.

It’s on the tip of Brady’s tongue, something sharp to get Jimmy to back off, but he’s done enough of that. “I just wish you’d give me some more time,” he says instead. He puts his elbows on his knees and leans forward, head hanging between his shoulders.

Jimmy breathes out again. He looks at the empty couch cushion between him and Brady and does come closer this time. Their shoulders are touching, now, and Brady can feel Jimmy’s breathing, his warmth.

“It’s not about that, I told you,” Jimmy says gently. “This is - it’s important to me. And if you tell me you don’t want me to do it, I won’t,” he goes on, and he sounds a little pained to do so. “But I really want to do this, Brady.”

And Brady, how can he even say no to that. How can he say _anything_ at all to that. “Jimmy,” he says, doesn’t know what to follow it up with.

“I know,” Jimmy says, and Brady believes him. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

Brady gets up, abruptly, just can’t sit there next to him any longer. He gets up and walks over to the window, rubs a hand over his face. This is Jimmy, he thinks, Brady doesn’t know how to do this to him. He thinks, if he told Jimmy no now, Jimmy would go with it, but it would hurt him, it would hurt him in a way Brady would never dream of hurting him.

And this is their team, these are the guys that have their backs. “Okay,” he says. It feels less jarring than he thought it would, but then again, it’s just a word.

When Jimmy doesn’t respond, Brady turns around, finds him with his head in his hands. Brady tends to forget, sometimes, that Jimmy used to be right where Brady is, that he didn’t just flip a switch and turned into who he is. This is one of those times. He feels guilty as soon as he realizes, goes to sit next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pull him closer.

“I think what you’re doing is so great,” Brady tells him, and he means it, he means it more than he could bear to explain. “And I think it’s gonna go so well, Jimmy,” Brady goes on, says now everything that you should have thought to say before, because Jimmy deserves to hear it.

Jimmy sucks in a breath, Brady can feel it in his back, and curls into Brady’s body.

+

The next day, Jimmy heads off for lunch with Mac after practice, and Brady goes to Smitty’s. They mess around playing video games for a couple of hours, but Brady head is not in it, and Smitty keeps beating him, which is a rare enough occurrence to draw some attention to Brady’s mood.

“You sure you’re okay?” Smitty asks him after the fourth time Brady dies on screen. He’s set his controller aside and he’s looking at Brady, and Brady shifts where he’s sitting on the couch.

He’s ready to dodge the question, is the thing, but he just - “Yeah, it’s just - I’m seeing someone,” he manages, the words leaving his mouth in a rush.

Smitty thumps him in the back. “That’s good, right? Cause you look a little bit like somebody died?” he says.

Brady chuckles. He runs a hand over his face and says that it’s a very good thing. “Today is just - it’s a pretty big day for them,” he goes on, and gets to see - actually see - Smitty do a double take.

There’s silence, for a moment, and then Smitty speaks up. “Then you should probably be there… for them,” he says, very slowly.

“Yeah, they’ll - ” Brady’s tongue feels too big for his mouth suddenly, and he’s worried he’s going to butcher this, but he also thinks this is it, and Brady’s got it. “He’ll probably be done soon,” he says, and it’s -

That’s it.

The ringing in Brady’s ears stops, and he breathes, and the world doesn’t end. “He’ll be done soon,” Brady says again, for his own ears this time.

Smitty nudges their knees together, and that knocks Brady out of his stupor. He looks up at Smitty and Smitty’s smiling and Brady feels this immense sense of relief flood him. “That’s good, man,” Smitty says, and that’s an understatement.

Brady laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

Jimmy’s still not home, by the time Brady gets there, so Brady grabs himself a beer and tries to calm his nerves. He mostly fails, but he manages to pull it together for Jimmy, when he comes home.

Jimmy looks - he looks relatively okay, but exhausted. He gives Brady a small smile once he sees him and then comes to sink next down next to him on the couch, their shoulders pressed together. He takes a deep breath, and Brady moves to wrap his arm around Jimmy’s shoulder, pull him close to his chest.

Brady’s heart is beating in his throat, a little, and his hand is sweating around the half empty beer bottle, but he wants to wait Jimmy out.

“Mac is going to tell the guys,” Jimmy says eventually. He turns his head towards Brady’s neck, and his nose is cold.

“That’s - good?” Brady guesses. Jimmy doesn’t sound particularly happy, just - relieved.

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, it’s - I asked him to,” he says. “He said if anyone had a problem he’d take care of it.”

Brady huffs out a breath. “That sounds threatening,” he says, and his heart has started to slow down, finally. He pulls away from Jimmy for a moment so he can leave the beer bottle on the coffee table,and then he curls back around him.

“It was,” Jimmy says. “I think he doesn’t want it to mess with the team, you know.”  He relaxes a little into Brady. “And I don’t want that either.”

“Obviously,” Brady says easily.

They sit like that a little longer, in silence mostly, until Brady reaches for his guitar and starts playing Jimmy some 1D. He settles on You&I, and Jimmy snorts once he recognizes it from a dozen car rides.

“It doesn’t count if you don’t sing,” Jimmy tells him, with a smile on his lips.

Brady rolls his eyes and that’s basically how Jimmy goads him into serenading him again, not that Brady needs much goading to begin with.

+

Lindy picks them up the next morning, to drive to practice, and he doesn’t make fun of Jimmy at all on the way there. If anything, he lets him  pick the music and doesn’t even object when Jimmy tries to give him directions to the same route he’s been taking for years.

At the rink, Kreids pats Jimmy on the back and then slings an arm over his shoulders, which is not strange, exactly, but is definitely more tactile and less grumpy than he usually is. Mac keeps a close eye on him, too, and it takes Brady an embarrassingly long time to piece it all together. No one mentions anything, but Brady thinks Mac told them.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Brady asks Jimmy later, once they’re home, getting ready to nap before the game.

Jimmy looks up from where he’s taking off his clothes to frown at him, so Brady elaborates. “The overcompensating.”

Jimmy shrugs. He puts his clothes in the hamper and gets under the covers. “Not really,” he says. “They’re trying, in their own way.”

If this were Brady, his skin would be crawling with the attention, his nerves raw, but Jimmy looks about ready to sleep, he’s so relaxed. Brady envies him, suddenly, his ease and his comfort, and wonders when - if ever - they’ll be true for him too.

Jimmy looks up at him from where he’s laying on the bed, patting the space next to him, and Brady decides to shelve the thought for later on.

+

It takes a couple of weeks, for the weirdness to wear off - or at least for Brady to stop looking out for it. The team goes out, after a win against the Devils, and it happens accidentally, Brady sitting next to Jimmy.

He isn’t sure why, but he notices now that he subconsciously does this, sits as far away from Jimmy as he can whenever the team goes out. Brady feels Jimmy’s leg press along his own now, and they can’t quite hold hands, but this is better than sitting at opposite ends of the table, so Brady promises to try a little harder from now on.

Mac and Smitty keep Brady talking most of the night, and by the time he and Jimmy head home, he’s not exactly stone cold sober. He and Jimmy are laughing over something that Step said, coming through the door, and it’s so much like last year and so not at all.

The thought brings Brady up short, and he abruptly stops laughing, turns to face Jimmy where Jimmy is locking the door.

“What?” Jimmy says, when he turns to find Brady staring at him. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks, and Brady -

He crowds Jimmy up again the door, leans in to kiss him, and he wants Jimmy so much. It makes his stomach curl and his throat tighten, how much he wants Jimmy, not just like this, but in every other way too.

“Wow,” Jimmy says, once Brady pulls back to let him breathe. He’s a little bit flushed and his lips are red, and he looks so, so good.

“Yeah, wow,” Brady says, and he thinks they’re referring to different things.

Brady kisses Jimmy again, presses him against the door and runs his hands through Jimmy’s hair, messing it up. Jimmy makes a noise into his mouth, once Brady’s fingers tighten in his hair, and his lips fall open, and it’s hard to imagine, that they’re still learning things about each other.

They find their way to the bed, eventually, Brady astride Jimmy’s thighs, his fingers curled around Jimmy’s wrists, holding him down, and Jimmy doesn’t even fight it. He goes lax under Brady, practically melts  into the bed, and lets Brady kiss him.

Lets Brady work their clothes off, until they’re naked, and then lets him find the right pressure, the right speed, as they rub off on each other, slow but dragging.

“Brady, please,” Jimmy chokes out some point. Brady thinks he’s getting close; the muscles of his stomach tighten up at random times and his wrists tense, like he’s trying to hold it together.

“Please what?” Brady murmurs from where he’s mouthing at Jimmy’s throat - gentle, because he doesn’t want to leave any marks.

When Jimmy doesn’t answer, Brady just goes on. “You like this? Is it working for you, rubbing off on me?” he says, and he doesn't even know where that stuff is coming from.

Brady looks up at Jimmy’s and Jimmy’s eyes are shut, his teeth biting into his lip. His hips twitch at Brady’s words, and Brady thinks Jimmy likes this too.

“I bet it is,” Brady keeps going. He leans down to kiss Jimmy’s chest, his sternum, as low as he can reach like this.

“Brady,” Jimmy whispers, voice strained.

“I’m right here, baby,” Brady says, moving his lips Jimmy’s ear. “Right here.”

Jimmy’s fists uncurls at that, his wrists untensing, but his hips are still working against Brady, almost frantic now.

“You gonna come?” Brady murmurs. “Come for me? Show me what you got?”

Jimmy goes taut under Brady, and he’s so tense he’s shaking, almost.

“Mark me up?” Brady goes on, and that’s what does it for Jimmy, has him coming against Brady. His eyes are still screwed shut but he’s such a sight, laid out under Brady, so Brady pulls back, takes himself in hand and starts stroking off, too hard and too fast but enough to get him there.

He comes all over Jimmy, and Jimmy chokes on a breath when he feels it, sucks in his stomach and shivers. Brady, belatedly, lets go of his wrist and climbs off him, grabs his undershirt from the floor to clean them up.

Jimmy’s eyes are still shut, when Brady’s done, and he’s holding himself tightly still. “Jimmy, hey,” Brady tells him, waits until Jimmy blinks his eyes open. “Hey,” he says again, smiling down at Jimmy like the lovestruck fool that he is.

Jimmy smiles back though, a little dopily, so Brady thinks that’s okay. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry, that was - ” he cuts himself off, seems to be looking for the right word.

“Intense?” Brady supplies. He’s starting to get cold, so he lays next to Jimmy and pulls the covers over them.

“Yeah.” Jimmy nods. He curls into Brady and wraps an arm around his waist, until they’re pressed tightly together. “I liked it, though,” he mumbles, and Brady’s pretty sure, can even hear it in Jimmy’s voice, Jimmy’s blushing.

The thought makes him smile, and he curls his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, pulls him closer where there’s no closer to get.

Jimmy’s breathing evens out pretty quickly after that, but Brady can’t sleep. He keeps thinking about tonight and every other night of awkward acceptance from the team, and something warm and tight settles in his stomach.

Brady’s so proud of Jimmy for what he did, proud enough that he can scarcely put into words, but it’s more than that. He thinks about sitting next to Jimmy today and how that felt important when it shouldn't have. Thinks about how this is their _team_ , how they all have each other’s backs.

Thinks, for the first time since Jimmy brought it up, about what it would be like for them to actually know.

Brady’s arm has started to go numb, by then, and he gently pulls it out from under Jimmy's head. Jimmy makes a muffled, grumpy sound, but happily moves to lay on his pillow, and Brady has to know.

His heart is beating in his chest, and his throat feels tight, and Jimmy could tell him.

“Hey, Jimmy,” he whispers. When that doesn’t do the trick, Brady nudges him a little, until Jimmy blinks sleepily at him.

“Hmph,” he says, eloquently.

“Jimmy,” Brady says again. “Do they - do they look at you?” he asks, and his voice shakes, a little, and he hopes Jimmy knows what he means.

Jimmy’s instantly more awake at that. He stares at Brady for a moment and then takes a deep breath. He nudges at Brady’s shoulder until rolls over onto his side and then cuddles up behind him, his chest to Brady’s back.

“Brady,” he says, and Brady can feel the vibrations of the word against his back. “They don’t,” he says honestly.

“Okay,” Brady says, mostly to himself.

“Now go to bed.”

+

For a long while, Brady just thinks about it. Thinks about it while he’s playing his guitar, and while he and Jimmy are having breakfast, and when he helps Jimmy with dinner. It’s a lot to take in, really, and it takes him two weeks before he’s ready to even mention it to Jimmy.

Jimmy’s eyes light up at the question, and Brady gets to watch as Jimmy quietly shuts down his enthusiasm, answers instead with a diplomatic, “I told Mac I’m not seeing anyone, so, whenever you’re ready.”

And Brady remembers Jimmy saying that he was never really ready to tell his parents, that he just got close to it, and he thinks this is what’s happening right now.

Brady talks to Haysie, too, asks him what he thinks about it. “I think you’d get ribbed,” Haysie tells him. “Endlessly.”

Brady laughs a little at that, because he’ll take it, if that’s going to be the biggest problem.

Brady and Jimmy talk about it, beforehand. “I’m not ready to come out to the team,” Brady says.

Jimmy nods solemnly. “I get that.”

“But I don’t want to keep hiding either,” Brady goes on.

Jimmy takes that, too, in stride, and Brady is glad he doesn’t have to explain himself further.

“Is that okay with you?” Brady asks him then, and his throat is a little dry, his hands very sweaty, while he waits for Jimmy’s answer.

Jimmy takes a moment to think about it, but Brady doesn’t think this is the first time the thought crosses his mind. He looks at Brady and Brady shifts a little closer, until their shoulders are touching. He reaches out to take Jimmy’s dry hand in his, and Jimmy smiles at him.

“It’s okay with me,” Jimmy says, eventually, and it's like Brady can breathe again. “You - it’s definitely okay with me.”

+

Step has a bunch of them over to watch the Superbowl, and Brady helps Jimmy make a pie to bring with them. It’s apple, and Step looks impressed when Jimmy tells him it’s homemade.

“Wow, I didn’t know you kids knew how to operate an oven,” he says, and Jimmy rolls his eyes.

“He had supervision,” Brady chimes in proudly.

Jimmy rolls his eyes again. “Yes, Brady set the timer and preheated the oven,” he mumbles, which - Brady peeled the apples too, thank you very much. He says as much, only to have both Jimmy and Step snort at him.

“Anyway,” Step says. “Make yourself at home.”

The two of them follow Step to the living room, where they’re greeted by a bunch of hellos from the guys. Step has a spacious living room, a couch twice the size of Jimmy and Brady’s, but Jimmy and Brady took their sweet time getting here, because of the pie needing to bake and everything, so the only open seats are one on the couch next to Haysie and one in a the armchair across from the TV.

Jimmy goes to sit on the couch next to Haysie, and there’s room for another person there, only it’s a tight fit, and Brady wouldn’t dream of doing this before but he’s tired of dancing around his paranoia, now, so he goes to sit next to Jimmy.

It’s a little crowded, and Haysie mumbles something about Brady having a big ass, but Brady doesn’t budge.

“There is literally a spot right there,” Haysie says. He points to the empty armchair but Brady shakes his head.

“This is where I wanna sit,” he says, and feels Jimmy press their knees together discreetly.

Haysie rolls his eyes and grumbles again. He sticks with it for as long as he can, but takes his nachos and moves to the armchair when the game starts.

It’s more spacy, now, but Brady doesn’t move away. He slips his arm long the back of the couch, instead, around Jimmy’s shoulders, and soon enough Jimmy’s leaning into it, his head half-resting on Brady’s shoulder. Brady kind of wants to turns his head and smell Jimmy’s hair, but he thinks that would be a bit much for now, so he settles back into the couch and turns his head towards Step’s giant-ass TV.

Brady spends most of the game counting Jimmy’s breaths, feeling him tense and relax at intermittent times during the play. He keeps his gaze focused on the TV, so he can’t tell if anyone’s watching them, but even they do -

Brady still cares, it’s just that he doesn’t think it’s the worst thing that could happen to him. The thought makes his stomach light, his heart even more so, and he’s still riding on the feeling when the game comes to an end.

After the game, it’s dessert time, and Brady follows Jimmy into the kitchen to help him cut up the pie. His chest still feels loose, and he’s smiling, and he doesn't think twice before walking up behind Jimmy where Jimmy’s looking for forks and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Jimmy jumps at first but leans into it quickly, settles his hands over Brady's on his stomach. Brady leans down to kiss his neck, and then he hears Step’s voice, coming from behind them.

“Did you find - ” he cuts himself off, and Brady thinks about jerking away from Jimmy but that’s not going to be anything for them right now. He feels Jimmy tense in his arms, so Brady gives him a squeezes around his waist and steps away slowly, as casual as he can.

He turns to face Step, and Step’s mouth is hanging open, and Brady supposes that answers the question of whether the team had suspected.

“Should I - pretend I didn’t see that?” Step asks, once he’s pulled himself together.

Brady’s face feels hot, and his hands are a little sweaty. He looks at Jimmy, and Jimmy’s trying to hide his smile, looking pleased.

Brady lets out a breath, says, “You should show us where the forks are.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> i also have a [tumblr](http://tboobs.tumblr.com/)


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